


i wouldn't piss to put you out

by infinitieonhi



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 03:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitieonhi/pseuds/infinitieonhi
Summary: very short drabble of some piss kink peterick. im so sorry i did this.very very explicit watersports





	i wouldn't piss to put you out

“Oh god, Pete, I can’t do this.”

It's some time during the late night. It's too late for either Patrick nor Pete to know what time it is exactly- they're too busy rocking against each other on the bed, sweaty and slick, making noises they've heard in bad pornos (and a couple of good movies). Patrick is pinned to the mattress, shaking, being held close and thrust into, feeling electric every time he’s moved. Pete is grunting, using him like some kind of toy, one hand gripping at a leg that’s pushed over his shoulder. 

“Sure you can.”

“No, I can't. You have to let me go.”

Pete understands what he means. He has to _piss._ He's quivering like a whore but he knows it's not just the sex; hes full, needy, teetering on the edge of an accident and being continuously pushed past what he thinks he can take. Every push in and out is another test, another risky move. Pete loves it. 

“Please, it feels like too much!”

Pete doesn't slow his pace. He's continuously rocking into him, grinding his hips up against Patrick’s when he feels like it, and watches the younger man’s cheeks burn, watches him clamp his eyes shut and claw for purchase at the sheets. Patrick is whining and leaking tears in his eyes from the burn of holding himself together with each thrust, his legs shaking, toes curling; if Pete doesn't let him go, like, now, he’s going to lose it. 

But it does feel good.

Every push inside of him sends shivers up and down his spine, and Pete’s hand on his leg pushing nails into his skin feels like gold. He's incoherently babbling something now, about _can't, can’t, please,_ but Pete isn’t listening, or rather, he might be listening too intently. 

Then there's a hand on his dick. Warm, hot, burning even- it strokes him up and down, and Patrick absolutely can’t do it anymore. Patrick cries out and tries to pull himself away from Pete as piss dribbles slowly down the sides, running over Pete’s hands, warm and slick; the room smells slightly more bitter, but he's not fully letting himself go yet. He's fighting it, trying to keep anything he can still inside. 

“I'm so sorry, Pete, oh, o-oh, my god,” he wails. 

Pete isn't slowing down with his hand on Patrick’s dick, nor is he slowing down with his thrusts. 

“You're sexy, Patrick,” Pete grunts. 

Patrick doesn't know how to respond. He chokes through tears and moans, digs his fingers further into the sheets, and grinds his teeth. There's nothing he can do, now, besides apologize, and wait it out, try to hold himself together and, well, hold it- but he can’t. He can’t stop. 

He lets go. 

Piss sprays from his dick and dribbles onto his chest, his neck, and onto his face; Pete makes some kind of guttural moan that’s louder than he has yet made before. It's bitter tasting on his lips, unpleasant, but he can't help but lick it away, and Pete leans down to lick at the sides of his neck, where piss continues to spray and cover him as well. Patrick feels disgusting, but he's moaning out like a slut, and he can feel a tightness building in his gut as pressure releases itself in a different place. 

All Patrick can muster are whines, scratching at the bed and at Pete’s back. Pete is busy licking Patrick up and down his neck and jaw, and stealing kisses on his lips, fucking him harder and tensing up. Their heads swirl with shame and pleasure. 

Neither of them can last long like this, both pushing and pulling at the other- fucking like they haven't in years. Patrick finally stops pissing, leaving both of them covered; fucking in and out of each other, and losing themselves in their own space. Patrick seizes up, rocks back again underneath Pete, and calls out his name. 

Pete pushes Patrick’s leg back closer to him, and starts to thrust erratically; he’s yelling out his name, too, and letting his eyes roll up towards the ceiling and fall behind closed eyelids. The tightness pools in his gut, and he scratches down Patrick’s thigh, feeling something like fire surge through him- something so good and hot and electric- a shout slips from his mouth before he comes hard inside of the man below him. His knuckles go white, grabbing onto the sheets and Patrick’s leg as tight as he can, and Patrick shakes again, yelps from the pain of being clawed, and cums hard like he was sixteen and reckless. 

Both of them pull apart after thirty seconds of shaking and spasming against the other. They’re slick and breathing through uneven gasps, and Pete collapses next to Patrick, eyes glazed and watching the ceiling. Pete grabs for Patrick’s hand, clammy and twitching; they’re wrecked. 

Patrick’s head is blurry with euphoria. Shame creeps into his mind, but he pushes it away.

He’ll tackle that tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> god won't let me into heaven now


End file.
